


Something Exquisite

by luna65



Category: Rabbitt (Band)
Genre: 1975, Love Triangles, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25324729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luna65/pseuds/luna65
Summary: A foregone conclusion...and a foreboding situation.  (1975)
Relationships: Patric van Blerk/Charles Coatzee, Trevor Rabin/Duncan Faure, Trevor Rabin/Neil Cloud
Kudos: 1





	Something Exquisite

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from 2009. My headcanon is that Trevor and Neil were a thing before the band broke up when Neil went into the Army and so the echoes of their sexual tension continue to reverberate now that the band is back together.

_Ten minutes standing in the room with you_  
_I felt a strange misgiving._  
_Well, in the dim light of my room_  
_still on the edge of…something exquisite._  
\- Stevie Nicks “Something Exquisite”

Was it because he didn’t have a girlfriend now?

Trevor sat on the roof of RPM Studios, mightly confused. Not at the feelings which currently warred within him, coming to a head as he watched his new bandmate in the booth a few moments prior, lending beautiful harmonies to the songs the group had already recorded. To see the other’s face: with its’ delicate bone structure giving him a somewhat exotic appearance…Duncan would always be _other_ to Trevor, decidedly Anglo, decidedly light not only in complexion and coloring but also in countenance. He looked refined and even sophisticated. Next to Duncan, Trevor felt not like the special son, but the also-ran. It was absurd, of course, this was his band, but Duncan was just the right bit of other which they needed to appeal to everyone in the country. They would settle for nothing less than complete domination.

Trevor had sought a moment in which he could shudder and pace and mutter under his breath. He walked the length of the heated tar paper and gravel surface, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands, exhaling smoke into the waning light of the day, looking out over the city, his city. It was all his, for the taking. And he **would** take it, all of it.

_Take him, too? You could. Just like you could have had -_

But that was madness, wasn’t it? The mere thought. There were friends and there were _friends_ but rarely could both co-exist in the pressure cooker of ambition. Trevor sat down in a chair someone had left up there, its’ frame creaking as he leaned back and let himself go slack in the heat, wiping at his upper lip.

He thought of Pat and Charlie. He remembered when he learned they were a couple…he was sixteen and caught them kissing in the control room one night at this same studio. An awkward moment stretched before them, which Patric attempted to salvage, deciding to be completely forthright regarding their predilections.

“Look lad, we’re…lavender, right? But you needn’t worry that I’m after you; I’ve a jealous fella here who’d give me a good thrashing if I so much as looked at you cross-eyed.”

Charlie had made a comical face and swatted his lover playfully, and it was never discussed so directly again.

Trevor considered the two father figures of a kind, and Charlie was rather a dramatic force of nature, helping to guide him towards developing a look for himself, which the other said was incredibly important if he wanted to be famous. They both were entertaining and endearing enough that Trevor enjoyed having them around, socially and professionally. Pat and Charlie had listened to his girl troubles with a sympathetic ear, even as they were slightly smug in their mutual happiness.

“You need a patient bird, darling,” Charlie counseled. “Your music comes first, and I’m not criticizing, but you need a girl who will understand that she has to assume second chair, as it were.”

Patric chuckled at the appropriate simile, toasting his lover with his cup of tea. Their engineer Julian, sitting next to Patric, chose to remain silent, his love life was currently as miserable.

Of course there was no end of actual girls to meet and flirt with and even fuck provided they could be talked into it, but Trevor had a craving for permanence. He was a loyal sort of person, he didn’t really want a different girl every night…he wanted to come home to the same girl who would always be there for him, who was content to love him no matter what.

But they all had expectations of him, every one. Duncan, though, he seemed to be happy in the moment: learning the songs, learning to harmonize with Trevor – although it was easy, they were both natural singers and knew exactly how to complement one another – getting to know them all and fitting in perfectly. Duncan was agreeable, appearing to instinctively recognize the personalities and the politics. Understanding that he would always be the new boy, but it didn’t bother him. It was an adventure he was ready to experience.

They were all ready, had been most of their lives. And suddenly anything seemed possible…including falling in love with one of his bandmates.

Trevor crushed the butt under his shoe, burying his head in his hands, long fingers threading through dark hair, pulling at the roots. It was no less ridiculous than the last time, and no less possible. But this time he was the one feeling it, although he knew from some of the looks they had exchanged…Duncan felt something too.

“Can you go up an octave?” Trevor asked, as much in challenge as in honest inquiry.

“Depends on how hard you squeeze me,” Duncan quipped, smirking to see the other’s reaction. Trevor could tell he was - _satisfied, triumphant?_ \- to see the blush. But it was nothing new, was it? His travails within the business had brought more inquiries than he would have imagined possible. And then there was –

Neil. Neil would kill him, kill them both. He had driven Selwyn out of the band, if for no other reason than he viewed Trevor’s Army buddy as a threat to the careful dance of near-sexual tension the two had been enacting since they had turned 15. Even as one of the internal truths of Trevor’s life was that his more-nemesis-than-friend and drummer was more than a little in love with him, revering him in a kind of mockingly affectionate worship, Trevor also knew that he would never return the sentiment, not in the way Cloudy wanted him to. So they chose to pretend they were only friends and bandmates, instead of some strange hybrid: friends closer than brothers, but also deeply competitive and jealous, preferring when triumph visited them equally. But during the time they had fallen out, after they returned from conscription, it was like missing a limb. Trevor couldn’t figure out what to do with himself, other than playing sessions, working assorted gigs, most ignobly playing piano for the patrons of a Greek restaurant in Edenvale. Cloudy had come to him then, after Ronnie had pleaded with him to give the band another chance, couldn’t resist a gibe in the form of a Rand placed in the brandy snifter atop the piano.

“D’ya know ‘Moonglow?’” a familiar voice asked him.

He had missed that face, even as Trevor suddenly recalled their last night before Neil announced he wanted no more of their collaboration, a showdown which revealed more than either of them had expected to know.

It wasn’t the thought of another bloke which worried him. It was instead the thought of someone he was already so close to, their camaraderie immediate, their affinity complete. Was there room for love? And would this love crowd out any other? And would it last? Trevor had surrendered to a certain comfort with Neil, but ultimately those interludes never solved anything…they fought twice as hard after they’d begun secretly turning to one another at the insistence of lust. And once they decided to start over again with the band it was a largely unspoken agreement that they would not return to that place, in the dark, where they groped at one another desperately in an attempt to bridge their seemingly irresolvable differences. Trevor didn’t love Neil…not in that way - sometimes even wished he’d never met him – but he did believe they were destined to be together in some way, and resigned himself to a constant war which could be tempered by music and distractions. They never fought when they were snockered, Trevor mused, with a smirk…they were both silly drunks.

And what if he was wrong about what Duncan felt? But Trevor possessed an instinctual knowledge of attraction, knew when the glance of another was beyond mere appreciation. There was nothing for it save to either pursue it, or ignore it. And Duncan was impossible to ignore, his very aura so inviting. The first time Trevor looked at him he felt his heart clench with a certain painful fascination.

Trevor returned to the control room and everyone looked up at him simultaneously.

“Wot?”

“Could let us know when you decide to disappear,” Neil chided with his usual sneer.

“Well that would rather defeat the purpose of disappearing, wouldn’t it?”

“Enough, you two,” Patric interjected. “Here now, Trev, you and Duncan go in and do the vocals for 'Looking For The Man,' you know, how we wanted something for the chorus.”

“Play the guide vocal, then, so Dunc knows how it goes.”

Julian found the tape and they listened to the vocal track for the song, then Trevor explained to Duncan, as they took their places in the vocal booth, what he wanted.

“So when the chorus starts, right after I sing _Looking for the man_ , we echo underneath it.” He sang the line as example, but he couldn’t quite get as high a register as he wanted, croaking as he held the note, and Duncan grinned.

“Just like that, Trev? Really?”

“Hush, biscuit.” He waved his arms at the glass between the rooms, and Julian nodded once he turned on the intercom. “Can someone fetch me some water, please?”

Neil opened his mouth, sardonic reply at the ready, but then Ronnie put his hand over it in a gesture of _oh shut up_. One of the tea boys was summoned and dispatched, bringing Trevor a glass of water, which he drank and then sang a few scales to himself, away from the microphone, finger in his ear to hear his head voice. The process of recording was unnerving at times, when everyone was watching and waiting. He had learned to ignore it, mostly, but Duncan was right there and Trevor was…nervous.

“Okay, let’s give it another try.”

They did so with the benefit of the specific settings on the board, and it sounded the way Trevor thought it should. As they stood together at the mic he tried not to stare at the other, waiting for Julian’s signal instead. But then on the take itself Duncan was the one who cracked, and everyone laughed, including himself.

Trevor admired that, he had a hard time being less than seriously intense about his own abilities.

Another take, and they managed it, though their producer asked for one more. When it was done they grinned at one another.

“Your head voice is positively operatic,” Duncan teased. “There’s no way I can sing that high.”

Trevor put his hand over the mic. “Not even if I **do** squeeze you?” He held Duncan’s gaze in daring direct scrutiny.

“Guess you’ll have to try it sometime,” Duncan whispered, then winked.

Trevor attempted to keep his reaction low-key, a pouty smirk and wink in return. He then looked at Neil through the glass who narrowed his eyes with curiosity, but thankfully, not malice.

Trevor and Duncan shared a flat in an apartment building near the studio (Neil and Ronnie occupying the one next door) but things were happening so fast they didn’t truly have time to spend together in any endeavor which didn’t involve rehearsing, recording, or performing. Now that the momentum of making the album had begun, all of the other events were purely supportive of that effort…their chance to finally show the entire country that they were ready for the big time.

But when feelings appeared _clearer_ even simple things like sharing the bathroom suddenly became _intimate_. The next morning, Trevor took advantage of the steamy air during Duncan’s shower to bring his hair under control and shave. As he did so, Duncan peeked around the shower curtain.

“Close the door, Trev!”

“I’m almost finished, biscuit. If I close the door the mirror will fog up and I’ll slice my bloody throat.”

“No we can’t have that, I s’pose.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

They stared at one another, each somewhat ridiculous in appearance: Duncan’s hair and Trevor’s face both obscured with lather. And yet, something could have nudged the fulcrum towards more physical response…but did not. After a few moments they returned to their separate activities and Trevor wondered if Duncan would be daring enough to come out of the shower starkers…even considered hiding the towel till he did. But was he ready to be so obvious?

 _Not like this_. When he did, it would have be something more meaningful than mere hijinks.

Take It Easy was closed on Sunday night, and Trevor normally took advantage of that fact to do some jamming with other musicians at The Branch Office, a jazz club, pretending to be his idol John McLaughlin. But after a draining week and distracted by considerations of his new bandmate, Trevor had another idea. He looked over at Duncan on the couch, reading a magazine, from his seat at the kitchen table where he changed out the strings on his Strat.

“Hey,” he said, then continued when the other looked up. “Wanna go to Splendor tonight?”

“The discothèque?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t dance,” Duncan confessed with an embarrassed grin.

“Neither can I. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“The birds don’t care if you can dance, and they’re always happy to see us. Haven’t had to actually buy a drink yet. And other things.”

Duncan chuckled. “Sounds like quite the lair of sin.”

“It’s fun.” Trevor put his chin on his fist and stared at Duncan, raising his eyebrows, smiling just enough to accentuate the innuendo.

“Okay. We all going, or just you and me?”

“Dunno. They’ll likely wanna rock up too.” Trevor shrugged, as if the consideration wasn’t worth thinking about. He continued to look at Duncan, hinting at the things he didn’t think he could say, now, in daylight. But in the near-dark of a busy loud club, buzzed on drink and smoke, in sweating proximity…it would be easier to express his desires. He imagined the other had a similar expression, just on the verge of saying something _true_.

Duncan shrugged as well. “Yeah, fully. Nothing better to do.”

“Nothing better,” Trevor said, winking.

What was stopping them from just…getting to the point? Trevor wasn’t sure, but it was actually _pleasurable_ , in a strange sort of way, to deny himself the chance when it was so obviously in front of him. He was more aroused by the thought of pursuing his plan under the noses of everyone else. He had a need to be _wicked_ sometimes. And now, a decided ache to do so.

Duncan had to know something was up when Trevor kept turning the girls who flocked to their table towards Cloudy and Robot, waving them away between sips of beer and drags on a spliff.

“Don’t seem so sociable, Trev,” he said, leaning in. Trevor shivered to feel the other’s breath in his ear.

“I am!” the other cried in mock-exclamation. “But not for them.”

“Lots of lekker cherries here.” They turned their gazes to the dance floor, watching the girls in question move to a seemingly unending montage of syncopated beats. “Music is kind of monotonous, hey?”

“I could do this,” Trevor said, waving his hand through the drifting smoke, “S’not hard to come up with a good dance record.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Duncan commented.

“But it would be _good_.”

“’Course it would, Clever Trevor.”

“D’ya really think I’m clever?” Trevor gave Duncan his patented _soulful_ look, the one which never failed to melt the hardest heart: all wide-eyed and pouty-lipped. They were breathing on one another in that moment and all the distractions fell away as Trevor brushed his fingertips against Duncan’s denim-clad thigh, tracing the inside seam. Duncan let out a breath but otherwise did not flinch.

“Fully. Y’know that.”

“Do I?”

“You should. Told you before.”

Duncan had let go of his reluctance once he saw the band at Take It Easy, saw their chemistry and their mastery and the way in which the audience responded to both. He wanted to join, and the primary reason was the chance to be a part of anything with Trevor. He was beyond compelling, for so many reasons.

_Preparation was normally just a case of messing about with one’s hair and getting in the proper mood…Ronnie kept everyone entertained with his repertoire of belching and Duncan watched Trevor iron his hair and practice his pout. Wondering if the other was daydreaming he started copying Trevor’s expression as he combed and spayed his own hair. Big brown eyes widened with amusement but the other did not take his eyes from his task._

_“Gonna pinch that pout right off yer face, biscuit.”_

_“Just tryin’ to be sexy like you.”_

_Trevor snickered. “Y’already know, prat. Got the cherries fainting and such.”_

_Duncan moved over to stand right beside Trevor, tilting his head to rest against the other’s shoulder. “Double whammy.”_

_Trevor put his head against Duncan’s (carefully, so as not to muss his hard-won look). “Absolutely.”_

_“Oi, doffies! Let’s go!” Neil shouted, tossing a sock at them._

_“Ag shame, told you next time you threw your stinking clothes at me I was gonna choke you with them!” Trevor roared._

_“You can try it later, you arse!”_

_Duncan put his hand on Trevor’s arm. “Cool it, Trev. C’mon, let’s go tease the tiger.”_

_Trevor put his hand over Duncan’s. “You do it better than anyone,” he murmured, and those warm brown eyes gave a glance that was more like a kiss before he turned away._

Trevor look a deep inhale from the joint but instead of passing it to Duncan he ran a finger along Duncan’s mouth and when the other instinctively parted his lips Trevor blew the smoke inside. Duncan looked around, somewhat panicked, but everyone seemed too busy living it up to notice. For discretion’s sake he wet his fingers and quickly unscrewed the bulb in the lamp hanging over the table.

“Oh that’s lovely,” Trevor teased. “Cozy.”

“Really gonna do this? Here?”

“Back to the flat, then? But I’ve got you so nicely pinned.”

“Not gonna run away, y’know that. Should know it.”

Neil suddenly appeared out of the gloom, leaning on the table, flexing his arms, which – Duncan did have to admit – were nicely developed. Girls were bold enough to feel his muscles without invitation…something Cloudy never complained about, of course.

“Ag don’t be selfish, Trev, give that here!”

Trevor passed Neil the joint without comment, pressing himself against Duncan as Neil sat down next to him. Duncan did not move, save to place his hand on Trevor’s thigh, the other doing the same. A whispered snicker as they did so, their heads coming together for a moment.

“Are you just sitting here, then, getting wrecked? In the dark?”

“That’s about the size of it, doff,” Trevor replied, taking back the spliff and passing it Duncan.

“Crikey, coulda done that at the flat!”

“Why are you talking, Neil?” Trevor groaned. “Go drag some cherry to the loo and leave us be!”

Neil leaned over and whispered into Trevor’s ear, giggling. Trevor rolled his eyes and shoved the other away.

“Stop, biscuit. Go get us another round, hey?”

“Go get your own fucking drink!” Neil got up and moved towards the dance floor, slightly weaving.

“What did he say?”

“Something he shouldn’t’ve. Mayhap we _should_ go, want you all to myself now.”

“You do. Here, there…everywhere.”

Trevor whistled the tune and Duncan laughed. “Can we duck out, y’think?”

“I always have an escape route,” Trevor quipped, then downed the remainder of his beer. “Are you certain, hey?”

Duncan’s reply was a barely whispered _yeah_ but it was so breathless with a certain longing that Trevor wanted to kiss him there and then. Their foreheads touched, they were close enough to kiss even as they did not.

_C’mon sweet thing._

There was a delicacy to Duncan’s body which Trevor appreciated, tracing the bones beneath silken skin with calloused fingers and tongue. At first they were too aroused to take it slow, clothes pulled off, but Duncan didn’t have time to slide off his jeans before Trevor had him on the bed, kissing and moving his hands down Duncan’s torso to touch the other’s cock as Duncan moaned in his mouth.

“Oh God, let me take me trousers off, kid.”

“Oi, watch it! Older than you.”

“Mmm yes, big man, so you are.”

Trevor grabbed the waistband and tugged, squeezing Duncan’s ass as it was revealed.

“In for it now, pikkie.”

Duncan sat up, attempting a moment of more rational proceeding, but kissing Trevor was something exquisite…something he could have never expected to enjoy so much, and yet, how could he _not_ , such a lush mouth which seemed to know just what to do as his tongue was everywhere at once. The two of them were moaning and gasping as they kissed over and over again, falling back on the mattress and squirming, their bodies rubbing together excited and slightly awkward.

“Wait,” Duncan cried, holding Trevor at arm’s length and panting, eyes bright with desire. “Wot do we do, then?”

Trevor rolled onto his side, leaning on his arm, one finger tracing a circle around Duncan’s navel. “What would you like to do, Dunc?”

“Well I dunno, Trev, I mean, I never –“

“Never?” Trevor’s tone was teasing disbelief.

“No. Been offered, sure, but…you have?”

Trevor sighed. “Yeah.”

“Was it Sel? That’s what Cloudy said.”

Trevor sat up, suddenly, hurtling a pillow across his room. “Bloody Neil, no it was _him_!”

“Neil?”

“Yeah. Not for a while now, but –“

“Coulda sussed it, the way you two bark at each another all the time.”

Trevor put his head against his knees, running his fingers through his hair. “The wild days, we did everything with…strong feelings, I s’pose. I thought maybe he’d stop being such a doff if I – but it didn’t work like that. But there was _something_ there, yeah. Dunno how to describe it, even now.”

“It’s always… _complicated_ , isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Trevor had wondered if the intensity of the moment would ebb, but when he looked at Duncan’s face, his desire flooded him again and he laid down next to the other, stroking his hair and his face. “Gonna say we shouldn’t?”

“No. You’ll never hear that from me.”

“ _Never_? Even if I should get terribly stroppy or some such?”

“Would you, lover, hey? Get cross with me?”

A long tender kiss, they felt themselves melt into one another.

“Can’t imagine it. When I first saw you, in the club, I couldn’t stop gawking, felt like a right doff.”

“How d’ya think I felt when you turned up on my doorstep, lookin’ all fetching? I stuttered awful when you came ‘round.”

“Yeah I noticed…I wondered how you managed to sing, if you talked like that.”

Duncan wryly grinned, tugged at Trevor’s thick mane. “Hush, biscuit.”

Trevor’s hand trailed down to Duncan’s chest, teasing a nipple with the edge of a callus. “Don’t have to _do_ anything just yet, but I’ll suck you, if you like.”

Duncan laughed softly. “Be much too quick. No I…just want to feel you.”

“Like how?”

“Like this.” Duncan pulled Trevor on top of him, kissing him.

“But –“

“Just be with me. Like this.”

“Like “ a gentle brush of lips, a smile. “- this.”

But kissing led to touching, and touching led to certain forms of release, but they were each accepting of the outcome, playfully wrestling and intensely entwining until the light through the slats of the shutters bloomed orange and they finally slept, curled around each other in a tangle of sheets and blankets, smiling and sighing in satisfaction.

Duncan stood before the toilet, pissing heartily in afternoon’s heat, yawning and rubbing at his face. He turned to the sink and made to get a drink when Trevor embraced him from behind, lifting him slightly.

“Ag Trev! If I had any piss left you woulda scared it right out of me!”

Trevor laughed. “Come back, Dunc. Sheets are so cold now.”

“It’s after three. We should be getting up now-now.”

Trevor smiled at him in the mirror and began kissing Duncan’s neck, from his shoulder to his ear, as the other squirmed and giggled.

“No fair!”

“C’mon sweet thing, just –“

The sound of pounding could be heard at the front door.

“Oi you slatterns, move yer arse!” Neil shouted from the hallway.

Trevor went to the bedroom and pulled on his jeans. He then strode to the front door with an decidely annoyed expression. He unlocked and opened the door then put his hand on Neil’s chest and pushed until the other was pinned against the opposite wall.

“Listen to me you stupid fucking idiot, don’t you ever, and I mean **ever** , tell anyone that me and Selwyn were fucking or so help me I will –“

“Oh Christ, didn’t think Dunc was actually gonna tell!”

Trevor grabbed Neil’s shoulders and slammed him against the wall. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you, Neil? Y’didn’t think it would ever get back to me? Who else have you said it to, you lying kakbag?!”

“Made it seem like I was having it on.”

“Tune me why I shouldn’t throw your imbecilic arse down the stairs right now!”

“Because you need me, Trevor, and you know it. So let go of me before I –“

Trevor leaned in with enough force that Neil's head hit the wall again. “Go on then, boy. I’ll knock you silly, I will.”

“Don’t sweet-talk me Prince Trevor, you know it gets me going.”

“Duncan knows the truth now. So I’d have a care…not that you ever do, but you might want to try, Neil. God knows you could stand to be smarter.”

“Oh sod off! You think you’re so fucking brilliant, and I’m not having it! You’re not any better than Ronnie and me –“

“Oh but I am better than you…in ways you will never understand.”

Neil pushed Trevor off with a groan of frustration. “Shut it, you rutting kak!”

Ronnie came out of the adjacent door, looking annoyed.

“For the love of God, will you two stop?! The landlady will call the police on us for certain!”

“Police are in our pocket now, Robot, I told you that!” Neil protested.

“I mean it, Neil,” Trevor said, giving his bandmate one last shove. “If I ever hear such a thing again, being the best drummer in Jozi will **not** save you.”

“Wot?” Ronnie asked, looking back and forth between his bandmates.

“Nothing,” they said in unison, glaring at him.

“I mean it now-now! Gonna give Dunc a terrible impression of us!”

“Oh it’s already ruined I’m sure,” Trevor sniped, then entered the other apartment, slamming the door behind him.

“Cloudy, wot did you say?”

Neil grimaced, rubbing the back of his head. “Mind yer own business, Robot.”

Ronnie pulled an exasperated face and put his hands in the air as he followed Neil into their apartment.

“I bloody well try, but you two could wake the sodding dead, y’could!”

“Sounded like quite a row,” Duncan observed, fixing himself a cup of tea at the stove.

“Can’t believe he said that to you, the arse.”

“I’m rather worried now.”

“’Bout what? Neil would never _really_ get in dutch with me, not now.”

“Well if you two fight now –“

“We’ve _always_ fought, Dunc, ever since the day we met. Nearly came to blows over a girl at the jol where I saw them. And then Cloudy didn’t want to let me join the band, Robot had to nag him for a week to let me come ‘round for a play. So _that_ , it doesn’t really have anything to do with the rest.”

“No?”

“Nah.” Trevor poured steaming water over a teabag and sighed, stretching.

“Will it be too obvious if I take your side?”

Trevor wandered around the parlour, looking for his cigarettes. “Well I’m always right.”

Duncan sputtered with laughter. “Lucky, then, innit?”

“Quite.” Trevor fished a crumpled pack out of the pocket of his trenchcoat. “Do what you think is right, and if I don’t think it’s right I’ll let you know.”

“Well thanks, dear.”

Trevor pinched the other’s ass before leaning over the stove to light his cigarette. “My pleasure.”

He was still nervous, still ponderous, still asking himself questions.

_What is it? Will we ever know?_

But Trevor did know that some things could never be fully described, or defined. Sometimes things were what they were, and that was all they were. He was almost afraid to look at life too closely these days, everything was moving so fast.

A different town, now, although from this perspective things could look very much the same…the wide African sky, the gorgeous stretch of the setting sun from the vantage of the roof of whatever hotel they were staying at. If he looked over the edge he’d be sure to see a crowd of girls somewhere nearby. But it was fun, the most fun he’d ever had, even if in some ways not entirely what he expected.

“Hey.”

Trevor turned around to see Duncan standing there, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“You can do a lot of things, Clever Trevor, but y’can’t fly.”

“How do you know?”

“Let me tell you,” Duncan replied, sitting next to him on another crate. “I don’t care to find out.”

Trevor held out his cigarette, Duncan took it from him and had a drag. “Pretty view, hey?”

“It is now,” Duncan quipped, smiling behind the smoke.

“Oh goodness, what a charmer you are, Mr. Faure.”

“One tries. I was thinking something funny.”

“Wot?”

“Well, isn’t it funny…we’ve got a hit record now, and it’s about the sort of thing that we can never tell. Like –“

“Yeah,” Trevor replied before taking his own inhale. “I get it.”

“Almost forget to say that name, sometimes.”

“Not that it would matter, they can’t hear us any road.”

They began laughing, to think of it - the deafening roar of several thousand teenaged girls - they could have played atonal nonsense and it wouldn’t have made any difference.

“ _Loving you is easy_ –“ Duncan sang, and it was stranger than Trevor could have articulated, not only because their voices were different…even as they melded as perfectly as they themselves did in the flesh.

“Oi, out for me job, are ya?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear. You’re one-of-a-kind.”

“Aren’t we all, darling?” Trevor replied, in his best impersonation of the man the song had been written for. He extinguished the cigarette and rose to his feet. “Let’s have a drink then.”

“Lead on, Clever Trevor.”

They walked to the stairs, almost on the verge of holding hands, but their hands brushed then dropped, an underlying caution inherent in their actions. In the doorway, Trevor took Duncan’s hand and squeezed. They smiled a secret smile and descended back to the world.

… _such a beautiful thing to do_.


End file.
